Blut, Part 2/2 By GenieVB
by GenieVB
Summary: Scully & Mulder come face to face with old questions and old advasaries.


  
"I suspected, Mulder, that because you think he might  
be your father, that ultimately he wouldn't hurt you,  
but he didn't think twice about putting a bullet in my   
chest."  
  
"I can take care of myself."  
  
"Oh, yeah. I saw how you took care of yourself when   
that little ball of cells started growing in your   
brain." Spender stood, "This is useless." He walked   
to the door.  
  
"Spender, wait." Scully said and turned to Mulder.   
"At least listen to him."  
  
Spender turned back but didn't sit down again. "That  
thing they cut out of your brain, Mulder, it's been  
there a long time. Longer than you know."  
  
"You're a liar, Spender."  
  
"You idiot! You were abducted!"  
  
"That's bullshit. I remember that night."  
  
"And that's why you spent decades trying to recall it,   
because you remember? They've cloned people, Mulder.  
Do you think it would be any harder for them to  
screw with your mind? Make you forget? You were  
taken and returned the same night your sister was  
taken. they did it then, spliced the alien DNA cells  
into your brain. You were part of The Work from the   
beginning. You were Daddy's personal little project."  
  
"Scully tell him to shut up."  
  
When she heard that, it only reenforced her belief that  
Mulder was on the edge. That he was afraid he wouldn't   
be able to control himself if Spender said much more.  
  
"Spender, that's enough." She moved to stand between   
them and addressed Spender. "So you think Mulder's  
mother killed herself because she knew this all along?"  
  
"Or because she was about to tell the truth."   
Spender answered.  
  
There was silence in the room while they both watched  
Mulder absorb it all. "She didn't kill herself."  
  
"Fine." Spender said. "All the more reason you should  
ant to find some kind of justice for her death, and me  
for my mothers murder."  
  
"I just have one question, Spender." Mulder said.  
  
In the room, Scully thought she heard a pin drop.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why didn't you stay dirty? Why clean up now?"   
  
Spender glared at Mulder, his face darkening,   
  
"Because no matter how much I saw of his world that  
was true, none of it justified him standing there and  
watching my mother burn to death."  
  
Mulder considered Spender for a moment, and thought  
of his own mother dying in a room filled with gas and  
blood filled with sleeping drugs. He nodded.  
  
"I'm going with you." Scully announced.  
  
*  
  
  
"Where is he?" Mulder asked, driving east on 87.  
Scully was beside him and Spender in the back, sitting  
straight and stiff, as they were all just FBI agents  
and it was their first day on the job together.  
  
"In hiding. Sort of. He lives under an assumed name."  
Spender offered no other information.  
  
"Do you know _where_?" Mulder did not hide his  
impatience with the man in the rear seat, nor did he  
disguise his dislike of him. Nor did he completely  
trust him. CGB's _son_ after all, bullet scar or no  
bullet scar.   
  
"Yes. But I don't know if he's there."  
  
"Then why are we going?"  
  
"We're going home."  
  
Scully turned half in her seat, looking around. "Who's  
home? Yours?"  
  
"His. And what used to be mine." He looked back, "You  
didn't think he lived in his car or in a hotel? He does   
have a house, just like normal people..."   
  
"Define normal." Mulder said but Spender ignored him.  
  
"..and a garage, and a mailbox, and back accounts. He  
even has a hot tub."  
  
Sarcastically, "Yeah, but does it have bubbles?" Mulder   
kept his eyes on the road, straight ahead like lasers.  
  
"I didn't ask for this." Spender said.  
  
Suddenly, Mulder was furious, "No, but when you found  
out the truth about him, you went along with it! You  
had a choice but you bent over-"  
  
"-he was my FATHER!"  
  
"-over to dear old Dad!" And because of that, Mulder  
screamed in his head, my mother is dead. My sister  
is gone and my mother is dead!  
  
Spender sat forward, right behind Mulder's ear. "I  
didn't choose him!"  
  
"You sold out, Spender. That man has never cared-"  
  
"I made the wrong choice. I thought I was going to  
be saving people-"  
  
"-cared about anything or anyone in his whole life!"  
  
"I made the wrong choice, all right, Mister America?!"  
Spender shouted Mulder down. "I did not know what I   
was getting into and I had no idea what he was capable  
of. I closed my eyes to it. I didn't believe the rumors.  
Had I known innocent people were going to be hurt,   
I would have stopped him."  
  
"Can we calm down, here? I'd like to arrive in one  
piece." Scully's heart pounded and she was far more  
afraid for the volatile situation than she let on.  
Mulder hadn't had a moment to grieve over his mother  
yet and there was no telling how he might act under  
more stress. There was no telling what he would do  
once he found CGB. There was no telling what any of  
them were going to do.  
  
"Mulder, stop the car." Scully asked.   
  
Mulder looked sideways at her, anticipating a lecture  
or ass chewing, but stopped car and they both piled out,  
leaving Spender by himself.  
  
Scully walked away from the car to put a modicum of   
distance and privacy between them and Spender's ears.   
Mulder followed.  
  
Spender knew they were going out to argue about him. Was   
he trustworthy? For them to trust him, they'd have to put   
aside their doubts about his character. That's what you   
do at first when you don't know someone well. It's what   
he had done with his father. He'd _wanted_ to trust him   
and had been lied to.  
  
But not before he'd learned a few things himself.  
  
As he watched them argue, their gestures angry and quick,   
before his vision was his mothers blackened, crispy   
corpse, curled up in the body bag like singed hair,   
and the medical examiner saying:   
"Spender, Cassandra L."  
  
Spender understood Mulder's reluctance to trust him or   
believe anything he had to say. But there was a time he   
also had believed little that Mulder had to say. Back   
before the stark knowledge of what some men were   
capable. Men like his father.  
  
Those kinds of men trusted no one and believed only in   
themselves and their own agenda. It was time to stop such   
men.  
  
Jeffrey Spender, watching them argue, thought only of   
his mother.  
  
  
"You said it yourself, Mulder, your mother is dead." She   
began. "And maybe your sister, too, and before you get that  
look, admit it, just for once, that she could be dead too."  
  
Mulder's eyes were stormy, the circles under them would not  
lend confidence to his ability to reason. He was exhausted.  
  
"So, I'm supposed to believe everything he says? I'm supposed   
to embrace him as my long lost brother?"  
  
"If not, then why are we out here?"   
  
It was a reasonable question. "If he can lead me to CGB and  
maybe my sister, it's worth the risk."  
  
"Okay. So we agree he might be telling the truth regarding  
the foregoing. Then might he not also be telling the truth  
about Smokie's wanting you dead?"  
  
"Maybe. Maybe he just wants a hand getting his own pay back."  
  
"Sounds familiar." Scully quipped, then relented a little.  
  
"Look, Mulder, like it or not," she stuck a thumb over her  
shoulder, "there's your family now. You can't choose your   
relatives. Maybe you don't trust him or like him. Maybe you   
hate him in fact, but if he knows where CGB is, if you can   
get an answer or justice at least, what the hell do you   
have to lose? Unless you think _I'm_ lying?"  
  
She searched his face. "I know you don't want to trust him  
because he's CGB's son. Maybe you think Jeffrey's just like  
him."  
  
"Maybe I am."  
  
Scully grabbed his elbow. "You're _nothing_ like him.  
He hurt people. You tried to stop him."  
  
He shook his head. It was difficult to process. It was   
too much. His mother, his sister (was she dead? wasn't   
she?), and now this former agent, turn-coat and liar,   
was...who? His little brother? Mulder shrugged the   
idea off for now.  
  
"I know you, Mulder. It's not in you to be cruel. you  
know I'm telling you the truth."  
  
"I know. But I don't know what to do."  
  
He seemed so tired, so uncertain. It was like he was stuck  
at some kind of dead end and there were no signs to tell him  
which way to turn. "Maybe Spender does. Why don't we find out,  
okay?" She took his hand in a gesture of truce, and affection.   
She knew he was a mess inside but now was not the time or   
place to encourage an exploration of it.   
  
"Can we keep the peace for now, until we find out one way   
or another whether this is a wild goose chase?"  
  
Spender watched them walk back to the car, knowing he had  
been the main subject of discussion.  
  
"So?" He asked sarcastically, "Did I pass?"  
  
Scully threw him venomous look "Just tell us what we're  
about to do, Spender."   
  
"Yeah, what happens when we get there? Do we walk right up   
to his door? Knock?"  
  
Spender bit back a snarky answer, "We call him. Have him   
meet us. I'll set it up."  
  
"Why you?"  
  
"Because he thinks I'm dead and once he finds out I'm not,   
he's going to want to correct that. But I don't intend to   
be anyone's sheep ever again. that's what we are to men   
like my father. Sheep for the laughter."  
  
"So what are we going to do?" Mulder asked.  
  
"Strike the shepherd."  
  
*  
  
When the knock came, Jeffrey answered it, opening it wide,   
and standing back, allowing his father to pass. He  
smelled of old smoke and expensive aftershave.  
  
"Jeffrey."   
  
There was no mention of the bullet wound to his chest,  
no smile or frown of greeting, certainly no apology  
for trying to murder his own son. Just an air  
of arrogance that made Jeffrey's stomach turn.  
  
"Father."  
  
CGB walked to the one window and brushed aside the  
thick curtain. "I take it you're well."  
  
"No thanks to you."  
  
CGB turned, contemplating him. "I assure you it  
was necessary, you were turning on me. The   
importance of the work, the future of humanity,  
you would have out all that at risk. I don't  
expect your forgiveness, but I know you understand  
I had to do it."  
  
Spender felt his muscles tighten, his shoulders were  
knots of tension. This was his father. His _father_.  
  
Father.  
  
There was no meaning attached to it. No feeling. No  
pride, no understanding.   
  
No sympathy.  
  
Spender felt detached from the conversation, if it  
could so be called, and from this stranger standing  
before him. Yes, his feelings were subjugated to  
his mind and will. They'd been whipped into a little   
cabinet and the key had been easily turned.   
  
He then felt the horror in realizing he was far more like  
his father than he thought.  
  
"I'm here to Make a deal with you." Not true, but it was  
enough to let CGB think he was the wuss he believed  
him to be.  
  
"A deal? And what is my part?" CGB lit a smoke, as if  
the act of breathing fire transformed him into something  
super-human. Potent and untouchable.  
  
"Leave agents Mulder and Scully alone and I won't talk."  
  
CGB studied him for a moment. "Jeffery, I think you know  
that's impossible. The _work_. If anyone should learn  
about it before the right time, it would all fall apart."  
  
The predictable, expected answer, but Spender was still   
disappointed.  
  
Jeffrey's face turned purple with rage. ""The Work"?!   
What about people? What about my _Mother_?"  
  
"Your mother had to die. She was going to blow the lid  
off of everything. All of our plans..Jeffrey, don't  
you understand? They're coming. Listen to me, it's   
closer than ever."  
  
He didn't believe him. Even if it were true, he couldn't  
be trusted to speak the _whole_ truth. "What is?"  
  
CGB looked at his son in confusion. "The End. The  
invasion. One day we're going to wake up and see  
the world being decimated, run through with aliens,  
the human race being wiped out. Only those with the   
courage and foresight to work as we have worked will   
survive it. Only those who've had the guts to Make   
the necessary sacrifices, including the disposal of   
traitors, will live on."  
  
"How many more have to die, father? You let mother  
die, you had Diana Fowley murdered-"  
  
"She would have betrayed me. As you did. As Bill  
Mulder was doing. I have higher hopes for you, son.  
I certainly hope you didn't come her to appeal to my   
conscience."   
  
"I just want to be sure I know where I stand. And that   
if I join you, I want assurance that no more innocent   
people will die."  
  
"They were not innocent! Don't you see? I'm a savior.   
I'm the Messiah, come to save mankind but to do that means  
some of the unbelievers must be sacrificed. We're gods.   
You could be with us, too, if only you'd believe and take   
the steps you know you must."  
  
Spender listened to his father and wondered if he  
had these speeches written down on a little note-pad  
in his breast pocket. Did he really believe he was  
a savior and not a cold-blooded manipulator and murderer?  
Did I really come from this man? Spender wondered.  
What am I, other than his son? Will this be _me_ in  
thirty years?  
  
"Father...."  
  
CGB extended his hand to him, his face breaking into  
a smile, like the Devil smiles, when he's baked up  
a particularly good pie of temptation, when he thinks  
he's won with ice-cream on top.   
  
"...Father, I'd like you to meet someone."  
  
Immediately the connecting door opened, and in walked  
four persons. The first was man with thinning grey hair   
and glasses dressed in a suit followed by a small woman   
in hospital blues and white lab coat. Following her   
were two beefy looking men who could only be there for  
the muscle they sported. They were dressed in blues   
also.  
  
All in clothing that said "hospital".  
  
"Father, this is Doctor Grant."  
  
GGB's smile faded as the doctor, with a polite, tolerant   
smile, shook his hand briefly.  
  
"Have you heard enough?" The younger Spender asked the  
doctor and those attending him.  
  
"Yes." and turned to CGB again. "Mister Spender. Your  
son thinks it would be a good idea if you came and   
stayed with us for a little while. Would you like   
that?"  
  
"No, I wouldn't "like that"." CGB turned to Spender,   
"What's going on? Jeffrey, who are these people?"  
  
"They're doctors, father. They're going to help you."  
  
CGB stared, his eyes wide, he licked his lips nervously.  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Spender didn't answer, only stepped back as the two big  
men took hold of CGB's arms and began escorting him from   
the room. "Jeffrey! What are you doing?!"  
  
"Did you take your medication today, Dad?"  
  
CGB stopped, planting his feet. "Yes. My medication.  
Jeffrey, you know I have to take it or I'll begin  
reading minds!"  
  
Doctor Grant quizzically glanced over at Spender who  
shook his head in the negative and winked.  
  
"I need it. You know what will happen. Get your paws   
off me, you idiot! Jeffrey, I need that medication   
or my mind will become so powerful, no one will be able  
to stop me! I'll become like them! A human computer. You  
know what will happen, Jeffrey! Why are you doing this?!"   
CGB looked back, pleading at his son, who's eyes were   
inscrutable, as his fathers used to be.  
  
"I'm doing this to help you, Dad. To save you...."  
  
CGB stared. Understood. "No, no, no!" They dragged   
him from the room, kicking and yelling his revenge,   
"You think you can hold me?!", he yelled to his   
traitorous son.   
  
..."And to save us." Jeffrey said to the empty room.  
  
Mulder and Scully emerged from the connecting door.  
  
"I don't understand one thing." Mulder said.  
  
Jeffrey, not really seeking rapport, answered shortly,   
"What?"  
  
"How he didn't know we or the others were here."  
  
"He said it." Jeffrey answered.  
  
"The medication." Scully finished, understanding. "Except   
he must have had it in pill form, in doses small enough not  
to damage." She looked up at Mulder. "You were given the   
same thing, only a more potent injection. That's how   
Skinner was able to speak to you that day at the DOD."  
  
Scully recalled the sight of a catatonic Mulder, all   
but a physical vegetable beneath a mind working like   
an out of control freight train where his body simply   
couldn't keep up.  
  
Mulder nodded, not relishing his own memories of that time,  
only months previous. "Why are you doing this, and don't   
tell me it's just because you wanted justice for your   
mother or as a favor to me."  
  
Spender stared at Mulder. "No, I didn't. I don't believe  
men should play at being gods, deciding for everyone how  
to fight the future, or welcome it. I tried to think like  
him, be him, but I didn't like the feel of it on my hands."  
  
Dirt, she wondered, or blood? "You think he was right,   
though, don't you? About the aliens?" Scully asked.  
  
"Even if I do, wouldn't you rather fight for your life  
with your own hands, your own way? And even if we are to  
perish at the hands of an invasion, would you really  
want to live in a world where men like my father would  
be in power?"  
  
"Can't argue with that." Mulder said.  
  
"Do you think it would have come down to that?" Scully  
asked, "the selling out of his own race? I'm not defending  
CGB here but, are you certain you know him well enough   
to make that judgement?"  
  
"I have blood on my hands, agent Scully. believe me, I know   
him." He pulled something from his pants pocket. "But I  
didn't "serve" the "shepherd" in vain." He handed them  
a small square object, a floppy disk. "This is all you'll  
need to convict most of those involved with my father.  
Names, places, dates, events, money exchanged. I kept  
some of the money for myself." He smiled ruefully. "I  
can't stay in the country of course or I'll end up  
in jail right along with them."  
  
At their questioning faces, "I was one of them. I have  
to go. Fortunately, "daddy" left me a rich man."  
  
"Where will you go?" Scully asked.  
  
"South America maybe. Somewhere warm with lots of sunshine."  
  
All the more to dispel the dark days behind him,   
Scully reasoned. As she would have done.  
  
"The rest of the money is in Swiss bank accounts and others.  
It's dirty most likely, but maybe you can do something  
with it, now, make it clean."  
  
Mulder asked:  
  
"How many patients at the institution?  
  
Jeffrey looked down at the carpet, wondering how thick   
the padding would be in his father's room. "About  
fifteen hundred."  
  
Remembering Mulder's dying brain and body, tormented by  
the presense of others, it dawned on her, "He'll - it   
could kill him."   
  
Spender just nodded.  
  
"You realise", Scully said, "that by committing him,  
it will be difficult to specifically prosecute _him_   
for any crimes he does confess to, disk or no."  
  
"Yes, but no one else will be hurt. My father was their  
ace in the hole. Without him and that little ball of  
nerves in his brain, they will have no insight into the   
alien activities. They'll be blind. Lost little sheep."  
  
Mulder asked:  
  
"How could you - how were you able to set this up?"   
  
Jeffrey looked at him, wondering which way he meant,  
_How_ could you? or How _could_ you?.   
  
Deciding Mulder was only interested in facts, "Have him   
committed you mean? Rein him in?"  
  
To his own questions, Spender's simple answer spoke volumes,  
  
"I'm his son."  
  
  
*  
END 


End file.
